


You Don't Get Rid of Pain; You Heal From It

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Depression, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, bucky is basically the therapist, thor though he's a literal sweetheart, we STAN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Natasha has gotten used to pain.When she's in pain, her first thought is to check for injuries and signs of internal bleeding. And she has none. Her body is perfectly healthy.So she's okay. Right?
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64
Collections: Anonymous





	You Don't Get Rid of Pain; You Heal From It

Wake up. Get ready for the day. Put on a smile. Eat. Work out. Shower. Eat. Talk with Clint. Go to the living quarters. Take off the smile. Lay in bed. Smile when Clint brings dinner. Stop smiling. Get ready for bed. Sleep. Repeat.

This was her schedule. Every day, she followed it.

Every day, she covered up; put on a mask.

Every day, she was in pain. 

Natasha Romanoff woke up at 9:00 AM. She unlocked the handcuff with the key on her bedside table and slipped out of her pajama dress. She put on a tank top and sweatpants, tied her hair back, splashed some water on her face, and brushed her teeth. She made it downstairs and automatically smiled as she saw Steve sitting at the dining table, reading the newspaper. It was what she always imagined a grandfather would be like. She snorted at the thought Steve with white hair and wrinkles.

"Hey Nat," he greeted her. "I made some toast, if you want any."

"Thanks, Rogers," she replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee and buttered her toast. "Are we going to the gym today or jogging?"

"I actually have a date with Bucky today. It's probably going to take all day. Sorry."

"Oh. That's okay, I'll just work out alone today. Maybe with Clint."

"Sorry about that," Steve apologized again.

"Don't worry about it. Have fun with Bucky!" She raised her brows suggestively.

Steve just shook his head at her, but he had a big smile on his face. "Thanks, Nat. I guess."

Natasha laughed, but it sounded wrong. Rough, and forced. She cringed a little and hoped Steve didn't notice.

Thankfully, he didn't, as he was busy clearing his plates and folding his newspaper.

Instead of going to the gym, Natasha went back to her bed. She turned on a random movie she had never heard of before and stared at the screen aimlessly. She didn't pick up much of what was happening, just that some girl fell in love with the "bad boy". She scoffed a little at the ridiculousness of it but didn't turn it off. Instead, she opted to pick on a loose stitch on her blanket.

"Hey, Nat!" Clint walked in without knocking, as always. "I checked the gym, but you weren't there. What's up?"

"Steve had a date, so I decided to take a day off."

"Oh. That's not like you."

He eyed Natasha suspiciously, but Natasha just stared back.

"How are the kids?"

"Same as yesterday," he shrugged. "You hungry? I can order something."

"Just ate."

She managed to shoo Clint out of the room, but once he left, she began to regret it. She missed his company and wished she had just talked to him about how she felt.

She wished she could tell anyone about the pain she felt. Anyone.

She knew that Steve went to group therapy. Tony was forced to see a therapist, courtesy of Pepper. Bruce went to meditation therapy sessions. Clint had her and Laura to talk to. Thor — well, he talked to everyone. If they could open up, why couldn't she?

She slammed her laptop closed in frustration and threw it on the ground. She heard a crack, but she didn't care.

Talking and sharing feelings weren't things that was condoned in the Red Room. But this wasn't the Red Room. She knew that showing emotions weren't bad or weak; it was a normal, healthy thing. But the Red Room fucked her up. Bad. Just the idea of telling someone about her most secret, deepest emotion made her uncomfortable.

There are stages to everything. There were stages to Natasha's pain.

The first stage was unfamiliarity. She had never felt anything like this before, internally. Not even the long treks through snow, or endless hours on pointe, or the sharp pain of the wooden cane could help her describe it. It was a whole new feeling.

The second stage was repression. She repressed these feelings; ignored it. She went on with life and hid any signs of pain or discomfort.

The third stage was lashing out. She spent hours in the gyms, hitting punching bags, lifting weights, sparring Steve, and firing guns.

The fourth stage was feeling lost. She was empty except for the clenching pain in her heart. It was controlling her and her life.

The fourth stage was where Natasha was at currently. Too many times, she had looked at the blade on her desk and imagined what would happen if she used it. On her wrists, maybe. Letting her bleed, just a little. Or her heart, stabbing it, hard, until she bled out and died.

She never touched it. Not yet. Every time she came close to picking it up, she willed herself to walk away. But this time, she couldn't help herself as she stroked the sharp blade. She grasped the handle and brought it to her wrist, when a series of loud knocks on the door interrupted. She hastily put the knife down and opened it. To her surprise, Thor was standing there.

"Lady Natasha," he said cheerfully. "I have not seen you in quite some time."

"Oh, hello, Thor. What are you doing here? I thought you were in Asgard?"

"I came to Midgard for a quick visit with Lady Jane, and I could not possibly leave without saying hello to the rest of the Avengers." Thor invited himself into her room and seated himself in the office chair. "How have you been?"

"I'm good —" Natasha exhaled loudly. "Actually, I've been better."

"How so?" Thor picked up to examine the knife that Natasha had been holding two minutes prior.

"I don't know," she sprawled down on her bed. "It's not a big deal. How have _you_ been?"

"Well, I am in a very good mood. Lady Jane and I are soon to wed."

"Wow, congratulations," Natasha patted Thor on the back. "I'll be seated in the front row, I presume?"

"Of course," Thor replied. "As will the rest of the Avengers."

Natasha flashed a smile at her friend. Thor was big and clumsy, and a bit naive at times, but he was a very kind man with a good heart who genuinely cared about his friends.

"I do hope you get better soon," Thor said as he pocketed her knife. "I will always be happy to talk, should you feel the need to."

"Thank you, Thor."

Thor was right there, willing to talk. But she was stupid and weak and she just couldn't bring herself to add anything else to the conversation.

"Good day, Lady Natasha."

"Good day, Thor."

Natasha rubbed her wrists furiously and then at the table where her knife used to be. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. Sure, she had other blades, but it wasn't worth it. Definitely not. It would be a release from the pain, though. She reached under her mattress and fumbled around before pulling her arm out. She couldn't. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it. Maybe it was? No. It wasn't.

Natasha hauled herself out of bed. She didn't get to this point just so she could ruin, or possibly end, her life. What was a little pain? She was used to it. She was fine. She had no injuries, and she wasn't sick. Pain was just her mind playing with her. She was fine.

A few minutes later, she found herself on the roof of the Avengers Compound. She shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of the roof.

"What're you doing up here?" she heard a gruff voice behind her.

She spun around and came face to face with Bucky Barnes.

"Oh, hi," she said. "What are _you_ doing up here?"

"I asked first."

"I just needed some fresh air. You?"

"There's a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

Bucky inhaled and sat down next to her. "Lots of different things. Steve, mostly."

"What about him?"

"Dunno, he's just— different. I don't know if you should be bothering you this?"

"You can tell me," Natasha said gently. "I give some pretty good advice."

"Well, I'm not quite sure how to explain it," Bucky tugged at a strand of his hair, "but he's not the same scrawny boy from Brooklyn anymore. And I don't mean how he looks, but the way he acts."

"Give him some time," Natasha told him. "He's been through some shit. It's bound to change a person. And it's been what? Seventy years? Eighty years? The entire world is different now. But he's still Steve. He still loves you."

Bucky was silent for a few minutes, and Natasha sat next to him, letting him think things through.

"What's up with you?" Bucky finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"I know that look," Bucky shrugged. "I wore it every day when I was still with HYDRA. You're lost."

Natasha stared into his eyes. For the first time, she had someone who understood what she was going through. And he had opened up to her. She could trust him. He was a good person. But something in her stomach felt weird. It felt like it flipped 180 degrees. Natasha clenched her fists and looked down.

"Natasha," Bucky placed a rough hand over her hands. "It's hard to open up. You don't have to. But I assure you, whatever you need to say, I'm here for you."

Natasha shut her eyes and let a tear roll down her cheek.

"Wanna take a break? You don't have to talk if you're uncomfortable."

"No, I have to. But I have to know I can trust you. Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Tasha, I'm no snitch. But if you really need help, don't you think that you should tell the professionals?"

"No!" she replied sharply. "Don't tell anyone. Not even Steve. Understood?"

"Okay," Bucky said. "Okay, I promise."

"Thank you. Uh, there's a lot. I don't know where to start..."

"Alright, then why don't we start with what you're feeling. Hurt? Lost?"

"Pain," Natasha said. "Just pain. So much of it. I don't know how to get rid of it. Please help me get rid of it."

"You can't get rid of pain, Nat," Bucky shook his head. "You heal from it."

"But how?" she asked desperately. "How do I do that?"

"You start by talking. What's the main source for this pain? What's bothering you the most?"

"The Red Room. I hate it. The thought of it just— What they made me into, it's terrifying. I'm a monster."

Natasha couldn't stop the stream of tears running down her face. She tried to wiped it away frantically, but Bucky caught her arms.

"It's okay, Nat," he soothed. "You don't have to hide your emotions. You're okay. You'll be okay. You're safe with me."

Natasha's tears turned into sobs, and she slumped into his side and let herself be embraced.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, "but it's okay. Cry all you want, alright?"

**Author's Note:**

> oops my hand slipped


End file.
